


Shining Through

by T Verano (t_verano)



Series: True Colors [2]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: 2013 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "tinsel", Christmas, M/M, christmas trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Decorating the tree doesn't quite go the way either Blair -- or Jim -- planned.





	Shining Through

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2013 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "tinsel"

"You forgot the tinsel," Blair said. He was still ensconced on the couch — unwillingly (Jim had had to resort to bribery to keep him there) — nursing the lingering effects of the concussion he'd brought upon himself two days ago, and staring at the tree Jim had been wheedled into decorating yesterday on his behalf.

"I didn't forget it, I vetoed it."

"You vetoed tinsel? Tinsel's like… like the icing on the cake, Jim. Right now we have a naked cake tree."

Jim shrugged. The determined gleam in Blair's eyes didn't bode well, but fuck if he was putting tinsel on the piece-of-crap tree. It was already messy enough, shedding needles every time you so much as glanced at it; adding tinsel to the mix was strategically unsound. Also completely unnecessary.

"You put any more weight on those branches and the whole thing will collapse," he said to Blair. Not strictly true, but the tree was pretty damn shaky, and he might as well try to make use of that fact.

"Tinsel? That's crazy, tinsel doesn't have enough weight to —" Blair stopped himself, wisely. After all, he was talking to a guy who could feel the precise heft of a single strand of tinsel — not to mention feel the metal-sharp edges of it — with no problem. Or with only minor problems. Or a zone, but what the fuck.

"Okay," Blair said, after a long pause. He had his lower lip tugged in between his teeth, and his eyes were narrowed thoughtfully.

"Okay," Jim said. Slowly. "That's it? 'Okay'?"

"Yeah, sure," Blair answered. " It's just tinsel, not the means to permanently end global nuclear proliferation. I can live without it. We already have a garland on the tree, anyway."

"Good," Jim said, still slowly. "That's good, Chief. The tree thanks you."

Blair huffed a laugh, and Jim couldn't help himself, he followed the sound over to the couch, chased it all the way into Blair's mouth and then some. Blair tasted like Christmas, the bastard: cocoa served with a candy cane stirrer, snickerdoodles and gingerbread men from the plate of Christmas cookies Joel had brought by earlier; all sugar and spice and fucking jingle bells, and —

And Jim's fate was sealed. He knew it. He knew goddamned well that he'd hunt down the box of tinsel later, after Blair had fallen asleep, and tinselize the fucking tree even if it killed him and the tree both (not to mention the vacuum cleaner, later). Blair was — annoyingly (irresistibly) — worth it.

And the smile on Blair's face when he saw all the glittery shit on his so-called tree tomorrow morning? 

Icing on the cake.


End file.
